


Broken Light

by BizarreBlues



Category: Rockman | Mega Man Classic
Genre: Depressing, Eye Injury, Gen, Self Harm, Takes place during Breakman, really self indulgent, right after he was brought back but before he was sent to fight Rock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-07 22:12:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17969003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BizarreBlues/pseuds/BizarreBlues
Summary: Breakman finds himself with nothing to do, restless as he waits to be sent to fight Megaman. He reflects on his current life.





	Broken Light

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by my own personal headcanon for Blues’ eyes. Please enjoy

        The halls of Wily’s Fortress were cold. They held a haunted emptiness, one that the wind howling just outside didn’t help. Footsteps echoed as Break man made his way down the hall, marching on like a soldier with no orders. That was, apparently, what he was. No orders bar one: stay in the Fortress until further notice. There was a master plan behind it all, and Break’s cue wasn’t until later. Once the busy work was done it left him with nothing to do but wait, and standing idly by had never been his speciality. Luckily there was an entire Fortress to explore. It was a busy place, running with machines and DWNs all ordered by Wily to do this and that, but the further Break wandered from it all the more solitude he found. Not only that, but empty crates and old abandoned machines. Cobwebs and dust bunnies occupied every corner. Slowly it occurred to Break that Wily didn’t make this place from scratch.

        He found himself exiting the halls into a larger room, boxes and an assembly line styled machine occupying it. Sunlight shone in from the small windows at the top of the room, revealing the dust floating in the air. Wily had not designed this place, he had simply found a broken down factory and resuscitated it.

        Finding broken down machines, places, and making them whole again. That’s what Wily did. He shifted the shield on his back. It was a present, he supposed, to protect him and his core. Wily gave him a shield, an improved buster, a new core, he had given him life; made him whole again.

        But for what purpose?

All that his life had once been had been taken from him. Stolen by other robots. It had never occurred to him how easily replaceable he was, how little he meant to the world. His job as a house bot, his duty to the military, being Light’s son, he no longer had the option to return to any of it. Light had new house bots, an entire line of robots, a better son. Everything he was suppose to do, that he was built to be, he failed at.

        He wanted it back. He wanted another chance, to prove that he could do everything that Light wanted. He could keep the house in order, he could be a lab assistant, he could prove to the military that he was worthy of their attention, he could be a son. He didn’t want any of it. He hated house chores, he wasn’t a good assistant, he had nothing to prove to the military, he didn’t need to be a son.

        Two eyes glowed red as Break shrugged his shield off of his back, getting use to the feeling of it in his hand. Even his old name wasn’t an option anymore. He had become a war machine, a soldier awaiting orders. He should have known when he ran away and there was no effort to look for him. He was an idiot for ever considering returning. Light replaced him, forgot him, successfully erased him from history.

         _ **BANG**_.

        Splinters of wood flew in every direction, metal creaked. His eyes squinted at the near invisible smoke that rose from his buster. Wily brought him back to be part of his army, that was all. What he was no longer mattered- not like before. Before he was the one and only, a creation that deserved attention purely for existing. He had existed for long enough. Now he fell in line with the rest. He could play a General but it was obvious he was nothing more than another loaded gun to be thrown to the front line. He didn’t care. This is what he wanted, to destroy his replacement. Yes, that’s what still separated him from the rest of the robots. None of them were forsaken the way he was. None of them would understand. None of them would care to.

        Another blast. Over and over he shot at nothing in particular. Dust flew everywhere as boxes were torn apart. Weak crates combusted as if made of paper, parts of the large machine detached and collapsed. They made a horrible screech as metal rubbed against metal. His gun felt hot, more powerful than before. The nuclear core he was given made him deadly, but something wasn’t right. He still felt the constant dull ache, one that intensened with every shot.

        Wily fixed him, but he was still broken. Wily made him whole, but Break still was nothing but an empty promise. This is why he was replaced, this is why Light never looked for him. His buster transformed back into a hand. He tighten his grip on the shield’s handle. He’s never used a shield before, but he was beginning to understand why Wily gave him one. To protect him from his core, from himself. Raising the heavy shield over his head, he slammed it down to messly hit something- anything. Again and again, he attacked whatever was close. Some hits split wood, others bounced off of metal, it didn’t matter to him.

        Why couldn’t he have been good enough? Was it his fault? He didn’t choose to be this way. He never _asked_  to be made. It wasn’t his fault. _It_ _wasn’t_ _his_ _fault_.

        Can he play the role of a soldier? Can he take down the better version of himself? It didn’t matter. What mattered was making Light suffer. Suffer for making something destined to fail every time, and having the audacity to not deal with it. If he thought he could forget him, erase everything he use to be and make an improved version of Break then he had another thing coming. That’s what he was waiting for, that’s all he wanted, to get revenge and make the one who made him to be such a fuck up suffer-

        Suddenly his shield hit the wall and, instead of giving him the satisfaction of breaking something else, bounced back, hitting his helmet hard and knocking it partly off his head. A pause in his racing thoughts. It was only then that he notice how blurry his vision was. Tears had been streaming down his face, he tried to breath in but it was unstable as he hiccuped. He was crying. Over what? Over the fact that he was useless? Replaced? Had no future to look to and no past to speak of? Because he was a war machine and that’s why he couldn't be loved- not only a war machine but also a child. A fucking child who had no one who wanted anything to do with him, a pathetic useless broken prototype who will never do anything right and is better off dead, but he can’t die until Wily or whatever doctor decides his worth is done and he truly is broken. _If_ _he_ _won’t_ _die_ _then_ _at_ _least_ _he_ _can_ _hurt_.

        There was no hesitation, no thought put into his next action. His grip shifted to both sides of his shield. Roughly he yanked it towards him, throwing his head forward. The tip of the shield met his LED eye. He saw a large flash in one eye before there was nothing but darkness. The screen shattered, his eye sparked.

        Pain flooded his sensors. His shield dropped to the ground with a thud as he let out a scream, covering his eye with both hands. His knees felt weak, and he allowed himself to fall onto them.

         _Useless_ , _broken_ _child_.

        Slowly he leaned forward until his forehead touched the ground. Silence filled the room as he forgot how to breath, wishing he could take his actions back. Slowly he pulled his hands away, some sort of fluid dripped him his eye. It couldn’t have been good, but the shame and remorse he felt made asking someone what to do out of the question. Instead he stayed, one hand wrapped around himself and the other on the ground. He forced his sobs to stop, sudden anxiety flooding  him as he listened to see if anyone had come to check out the commotion. God, he hoped not. Don’t let them see you like this.

        He sat up, wiping away the fluid. He should look at it, at least. See the damage he did and decide what to do next.

        He couldn’t bring himself to. He shoved his helmet back down, adjusting it into place. They’ll know.  He only has one red eye now, of course they’ll know. Wily will know, at least.

        Break stood, grabbed his shield, and continued marching. He was alive again. There was no purpose for it. He’d make sure everyone who made him feel like this paid for it anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> One eye,, hence why he has one red eye... I like to think I’m clever sometimes


End file.
